


Running Commentary

by capsicleonyourleft



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mirrors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsicleonyourleft/pseuds/capsicleonyourleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can be rather distracting in the mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Commentary

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same universe as [ I Like It When You Don't Use Contractions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/109124), though it is not a direct follow-up and can easily be read as a standalone. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to [specter](http://specter.livejournal.com) for the beta and cheerleading! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

The smell of French Roast tempts Dean out of his sleep. The other side of the bed is empty; the sheets are ruffled, the pillow still slightly dented. Sighing, he picks up the steaming cup of coffee that’s been placed on the end table. A careful sip confirms that it’s perfect: black, sweetened with two sugars and a packet to spare on the side. 

He finds Castiel standing in front of the bathroom vanity, shaving cream covering half of his face and a razor in his hand. The black boxer briefs— _Dean’s_ boxer briefs, Jesus—he’s wearing cling to his toned thighs, hugging his pert ass in all of the right ways. An unbuttoned white oxford covers his back, his favourite blue tie lying loose across his shoulders. The movement of his hand is sure and efficient as he shaves along his throat, the blade gliding easily against his skin. The knowledge that Cas’ jaw will be covered with a fresh coat of stubble by the time he makes it home tonight puts a smile on Dean’s face; he loves the stubble-burn and the way his thighs constantly itch from all the time Cas spends with his face pressed between his legs.

Watching the process proves unexpectedly arousing, and Dean’s cock takes an immediate interest in the proceedings. He’s overwhelmed with a multitude of dirty thoughts, the images playing themselves out in his mind. He wants to bend Cas over and eat out his ass, hear Cas scream himself hoarse as he pushes back into Dean’s face; he wants to watch his fingers disappear inside Castiel’s tight hole over and over again, only to be replaced with his thick cock; he wants to feel the weight of Castiel’s cock on his tongue, feel the cold bathroom tile under his knees as Cas fucks his mouth. Dean burns with how much he wants these things, but he has no idea what to ask for first. 

Cas has rinsed the last of the shaving cream off his face and is toweling his face dry by the time Dean walks over to fit himself against his back, hands finding the sharp jut of his hipbones. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets tiredly. He’s not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination; he’ll kick and bite and fight _dirty_ for an extra ten minutes under the warm blankets. Fortunately, his grouchy mood is easily subdued with copious amounts of coffee, lingering touches and extra sloppy blowjobs.

“Mornin’,” Dean responds, watching Cas reach for his aftershave and pour a small amount in the palm of his hand. Dean’s ass clenches as he watches long, thin fingers spread the cream—the same fingers that were coated with lube only hours ago, pushing into him with precision, causing him to arch off the bed and moan so loud the neighbours had to have heard. He’s still open and loose from last night, and it wouldn’t take much for Cas to slip in and fill him back up. Unfortunately—but also very fortunately—Cas enjoys watching his fingers in Dean’s ass too much and never rushes preparation, no matter how horny they are. As much as Dean loves indulging Cas’ many kinks—and fuck, does he have a lot of them—they simply don’t have this kind of time right now. 

He nuzzles the bolt of Cas’ jaw, catching a whiff of sandalwood mixed with spicier notes. The smell is so incredibly _Cas_ , and Dean’s dick goes from half-hard to full alert. 

“Dean,” Cas whines when Dean rubs his erection against his back, letting his arousal be known. The tone is fondly exasperated, and it means Cas is going to need some convincing. It’s a good thing Dean’s had his morning coffee and is up for the task. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Can’t you spare ten minutes?” Dean urges, splaying his hand low on Cas’ stomach, pinky grazing the waistband of his underwear. “You’ve never even been late before. It’s not like they can start the class without you.”

“Students tend to wander off if the instructor doesn’t come on time,” Cas says, closing his eyes when Dean’s hand ventures lower on his body, fingers tangling in his pubic hair. Dean sincerely doubts any of Cas’ students would scurry off if he’s a few minutes late—Cas is one of the most reputable professors on campus: his classes are always the first the fill out and have some of the lowest drop-out rates in the entire school.

While Dean often teases Cas that his popularity among students is due to his ability to rock a sweater vest and thick-rimmed glasses, he knows Cas is adored by his colleagues and students alike because he’s genuinely a good teacher. (He witnessed it firsthand when he sat in on one of Castiel’s classes a few months ago. Castiel spoke with confidence and ardour, but welcomed discussion and differing opinions—his eyes always lit up with a small, proud smile when one of the students presented a well-thought-out counterargument. Dean’s not even embarrassed to admit he got painfully hard listening to his lecture on empiricist epistemology; the sex they had that night was the kinkiest, most athletic sex of Dean’s life, and involved some very creative uses of Cas’ extensive collection of bow ties.)

Knowing it’s a foolproof erogenous zone, Dean kisses the nape of Cas’ neck, sucking on the top knob of his spine. The resulting moan informs him this was a good decision. “You are insufferable,” Cas says, tone impatient and pissy in that way that suggests very, _very_ good things are ahead. Much to Dean’s delight, Cas spins around to face him, grabbing his hips to press their erections together. Dean fucking _loves_ it when Cas gets bossy. “We need to make this quick. I refuse to be late by more than five minutes.”

“That’s a challenge I can accept,” Dean smirks, confident in his ability to completely unravel Cas in less than ten minutes. He bends down to lick into the divot between Cas’ neck and collarbone, giving the tendon a gentle bite. The sounds Cas produces in response are guttural and primal, and Dean knows he’s biting those gorgeous lips of his raw. Unable to resist, he removes his mouth from the expense of Cas’ neck and looks up, finding red-bitten lips and hooded eyes staring back at him. He follows the curve of Cas’ bottom lip with his thumb, stifling a moan when Cas swipes his tongue along the digit.

“Fuck,” Dean says, letting his hand drop to the small of Cas’ back. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Cas challenges, because he’s a kinky bastard who fucking _loves_ running commentary. Finding out the prim, strait-laced professor is an insatiable, uninhibited _animal_ in bed was the best surprise of Dean’s life. It’s always the quiet ones.

Catching a glimpse of their reflections, Dean has a sudden idea. “I can do better than that,” he says, turning Cas around to face the mirror, plastering himself against his back. The next words are spoken directly into his ear. “I can show you.”

“What—” 

“Shh. Trust me,” Dean says, cupping Cas through his underwear and relishing in the heat of his body. Castiel’s eyes meet his in the mirror, puzzled but interested. “I want you to see what I see when we fuck, Cas. Want you to see how amazing you look when you come all over yourself.” Not bothering with the dress shirt or tie, Dean goes straight for Cas’ underwear, lowering them down to his knees. Cas looks obscene like this, standing in front of the mirror with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie strewn across his neck, his cock swollen red and leaking at the tip. It’s fucking beautiful.

Dean puts his chin on Castiel’s shoulder, arms circling around his waist. It’s a perfect position for him to grab Cas’ cock in his hand and give him a hard, long pull.  
“Watch my hand on your cock,” Dean instructs, watching Cas in the mirror to make sure he’s doing just that. Blue eyes widen as they track Dean’s movements in the mirror, Castiel’s breathing becoming more laboured with each expert stroke. His eyelids flutter, and Dean won’t have that; not even a second of this can be missed. He loosens his fingers, ignoring Cas’ frustrated groan. “Open your eyes,” he says. When Cas’ eyes open to stare at him, Dean tightens his grip on his cock as reward and brings his other hand to Cas’ mouth, nudging his lips expectantly. Cas sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with saliva. When he’s satisfied, Dean lowers his fingers to Cas’ back, letting them drag slowly along his crack. Dean massages around Cas’ hole, getting it slick and wet, his finger barely catching on the rim. 

“Wish I had time to fuck you, Cas,” Dean confesses, nibbling on his earlobe and meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Wish I could bend you over and just watch you take my fingers, stretch you out good and proper so you can take my cock.” Cas all but vibrates in his arms, pushing back into Dean while also trying to fuck into the fingers wrapped around his engorged cock. “‘S okay, though,” Dean says, rubbing his own cock against Cas’ ass and the small of his back. It’s not incredibly satisfying with his underwear acting as a barrier between them, but it’s enough to take the edge off. “I’ll fuck you when we get home tonight. I’ll lay you out on the bed, spread you open on your back for me and fuck into your tight little hole. There’s something for you to think about for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, yes,” Cas mumbles deliriously, voice hoarse and desperate. “Want you to, Dean. Want you moving inside of me, filling me up with your fingers and your tongue and your cock. Want you to fuck me so hard I won’t be able to sit down for a week.” 

And yeah, that sounds like a mighty fine plan to Dean. “I promise, Cas,” he says, placing a kiss on Cas’ clothed shoulder. He tightens his grip on Cas’ cock, making the fit rough and snug, just the way Cas likes. There’s little finesse to it, but Cas likes his handjobs quick and messy, and Dean is happy to oblige. Cas is making these small, breathy noises that mean he’s really fucking close, so Dean keeps rubbing at his hole and perineum with his thumb while his right hand pumps his cock.

“Close,” Cas murmurs, struggling to keep his eyes open. Dean rubs the head of his cock with the heel of his hand, removing his other hand from Cas’ ass to take off his own underwear.

“Come on, Cas,” he urges, grinding his now-bare erection against Cas’ back and ass, the sweat gathered at the dip of his spine easing the way. The pleasure and relief are instant now that there’s skin-to-skin contact. “Keep your eyes open for me. You look so hot like this, aching and desperate for me. Look how gorgeous your cock looks in my hand, fucking into it and chasing my fingers. Making me want to get down on my knees and suck you, Cas, let you finish in my mouth.” Dean can almost taste come in his mouth, craves the weight of Cas’ cock on his tongue.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Cas breathes out, pushing back against Dean while his hand wraps around Dean’s on his cock, tightening the grip. They jack his cock together, and it only takes a few more strokes before Cas is arching his hips and coming all over his stomach with what can only be described as a growl, wayward drops landing on his button-down and tie. 

Dean’s not far behind. It’s embarrassing he can get so worked up without being touched, can come as a result of some light friction and a very pornographic soundtrack made up of Cas’ moans and his own filthy mouth. What does him in is the promise of what will happen between them later that night, and he comes to the image of being buried balls deep inside of Cas. His vision goes white, and he bites down on Cas’ shoulder to stop from screaming himself hoarse, resting his head there until his breathing evens out. When his vision clears, he makes the mistake of looking down, watching his come trickle from Cas’ back to the crack of his ass before it lands on the floor. His cock gives a hopeful twitch at the sight.

An insistent mouth attaches itself to Dean’s, and he opens for Cas immediately, wishing he’d had the chance to brush his teeth. 

“You taste like ass,” Cas says when they separate. Dean’s about to point out Cas _loves_ eating ass, but doesn’t bother with the retort when Cas pulls him into the shower, clothes and all.

 

 

It’s five after eight when they pull up in front of the university, which means Cas is officially five minutes late. Instead of bolting like Dean expected, Cas spends another two minutes making out with Dean in the car, fucking his tongue into his mouth like he has all the time in the world, seemingly unconcerned with the fact it will take him another three minutes to walk across campus to where his class is. 

“Remember our appointment,” Cas says sternly as he finally makes to get out of the car. “If you’re not home on time, I’m going to start without you.” 

Dean’s walked in on Cas with three fingers up his own ass and Dean’s name on his lips enough times to know that’s not an empty threat. (A pleasant greeting, to be certain, but one that indicated Dean had missed vital parts of the show.)

The image now fresh in his mind, Dean leans his head against his seat and palms his now-half-hard cock, thanking his lucky stars he doesn’t have to be at work for another forty minutes. Dr. Castiel Milton is going to be the death of him.


End file.
